


The Gym

by kwsni



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 09:05:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2462549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kwsni/pseuds/kwsni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a gym in the bunker. Team free will uses it, some more healthily than others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gym

**Author's Note:**

> Canon divergent someplace in the second half of Season 9

There's a gym in the bunker. It doesn't get a lot of use, and the boys aren't really into working out for working out's sake anyway, but the nature of their work means that sometimes they go weeks without a case, and both Dean and Sam start to get stir crazy about day four. Castiel uses it late at night, running on the rickety treadmill, his long legs pounding for miles and miles when the burning of his stolen grace in his chest is too much to let him sleep. Sam lifts weights, does pull ups, occasionally uses the treadmill, early in the morning when the weather is too hot or rainy to run outside.

Dean uses the punching bag exclusively, puts his head down and just wails into it, as hard as he can hit, until he's drenched in sweat and every bone in his hands and arms ache. At first, he's careful about his form, about wrapping his hands, but once the Mark of Cain begins to exert its influence, he forgets more and more often to take care of his body, driven by the anger, the pain, and the hunger to hit something until it breaks.

Castiel finds him, one day, on his knees, panting and exhausted, still feebly striking at the bag, even though he doesn't catch it when it slams into him on the rebound, just fights his way back up, and hits it again. His lip is split and there's blood all over the bag.

"Dean." Castiel says as he wraps one hand over Dean's bloody, bruised knuckles. When Dean doesn't respond, Castiel places himself between Dean and the punching bag.

Dean blinks, takes a breath, and looks up at Castiel, eyes dark and lost. "Cas."

"I think you're done for today." Dean's hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat, Castiel reaches out and brushes it back. "You're hurting yourself."

Dean makes a noise that is meant to be a laugh, but sounds more like a sob. "Better me than you or Sam. I can't stop it, Cas. The Mark takes over, and I just need to hit something."

Castiel gently helps him to his feet. "I know." He inspects Dean's hands carefully. All of his knuckles are split, and will take some time to heal, but there are no bones broken, and nothing is out of joint. Dean stands quietly, reeling slightly, like he's standing on the deck of a ship. His eyes are unfocused, face blank. Castiel presses a hand on the small of his back to get him moving. Dean stumbles forward obediently, and lets Castiel guide him to the huge, claw-foot tub in the shower room. Dean perches wearily on the edge while Castiel fills the tub and gathers supplies.

"Why are you doing this, Cas?" Dean's voice is flat, dull.

"You're hurt." Castiel says, as he peels Dean's sweat-soaked shirt from his back. There are bruises here, too, from the bag swinging and knocking him down.

"So?"

Castiel smiles. At least the signature Winchester self-loathing hasn't been lost yet, even if other parts of Dean's personality haven't made an appearance in a while.

"Maybe I want to. Stand up." Dean does, and Castiel unfastens his jeans, skimming Dean's boxers off at the same time. Getting Dean naked has somehow become a major goal of Castiel's new life, but now is not the time. Now he needs to get Dean cleaned up, get him centered and clear-headed again.  Castiel's wants and needs can wait.

Castiel holds Dean's elbow as he climbs into the hot water. The last thing he wants is for Dean to slip in this strangely malleable state, and have the Mark take over out of self-preservation.

Dean groans as he sinks into the water, chest deep, with his arms draped over the sides, and his head thrown back. Castiel rolls up his pant legs, and slides his feet in next to Dean's knees, sitting on the edge of the tub.

He takes Dean's hand into his lap, washes it carefully with a soft washcloth, and sets it gently in the water to rinse. The soap he has chosen is one of Sam's frou-frou soaps, as Dean calls them, the scents of lemon and lavender waft out into the room. Dean hisses as the hot water touches the split skin of his knuckles. Castiel murmurs an apology, and moves on to the other hand.

He massages both of Dean's arms to the shoulder, then moves on to his legs, then his back and chest, giving each bruise gentle attention. Castiel keeps his touch chaste, at the moment he wants nothing more than for the Mark to ease its grip on Dean. Dean becomes even more boneless as Castiel works, his eyes slide closed, and his face loses some of the tense blankness of a moment before. Castiel finds a calm serenity in the task, the warm water, Dean's smooth skin, the smell of the soap. It feels like they're in a bubble of time that could go on forever.

Dean groans again when Castiel begins to wash his hair, so Castiel takes extra care with it, maneuvering so that Dean is leaning against his shins, massaging Dean's head, and scratching lightly with his fingernails. Castiel supports Dean's head as he slips it under the water to rinse, not because he doesn't trust that Dean can't rinse his hair on his own, but out of a desire to keep touching him.

Dean's eyes open slowly when he surfaces, he meets Castiel's gaze as he rests the back of his head against Castiel's knees. There's a light in them that Castiel hasn't seen in weeks, and he is brought almost to tears with relief.

"How did you know?" Dean asks, his voice soft and rough, like he has just woken up. "How did you know this was what I needed?"

Castiel shrugs. "It seemed relaxing, and you are generally very tense." He does not say that the Mark has only made him more so.

Dean closes his eyes again, a ghost of a smile flitting across his face. "You're smart."

Castiel takes this as permission to continue, dabbing gently at the cut on Dean's lip,  and washing the sweat off of his face. Castiel takes the same care massaging the tense muscles of Dean's face as he has the rest of his body, paying special attention to the furrow between his brows, and the muscle at the hinge of his jaw. Dean makes small happy noises as he does so, Castiel deliberately draws it out, just so Dean keeps making them.

Castiel doesn't want to stop, even though he is finished, so he returns his hands to Dean's hair, combing through the damp strands. Dean's breathing has evened out, his shoulders and back rest solidly against Castiel's shins. Castiel's feet and legs are warm, comfortable. The water swirls pink around Dean's knees.

"I don't want to stop." He tells Dean before he can think too hard about it.

One of Dean's hands slides up to cup Castiel's calf under the water. "Then don't."

Castiel runs his thumb over Dean's soft lower lip, happy to see the bleeding has stopped. "You'll get cold and your muscles will tighten up. I should get you into bed."

Dean bites gently at the tip of Castiel's thumb. "Cas--" Dean's voice is so full of contained emotion, sadness, longing, fear, and hope, that a lump forms in Castiel's throat. He rests his forehead on Dean's.  "I'm so fucked up, Cas, I can't tell what's me and what's the Mark. I don't want--"Castiel stops him with a finger on his lips. Any way that sentence was going to end will hurt, and this aching in his chest hurts enough.

"Hush. It's all right, Dean. It's all right." Castiel closes his eyes, tries to get his roiling emotions back under control. One part of him would throw caution to the wind, take things as far as Dean would take them. Another, more rational, part knows that Dean is not in his right mind, and is horrified by the thought of doing anything that either of them may come to regret. It is this part Castiel chooses to listen to, and he takes several deep breaths to calm himself.

Dean, too, takes a steadying breath. "Ok, yeah, ok." He is trembling, and though it is probably not the only cause, the cooling water can't be helping. Castiel slowly pulls his shins from behind Dean, climbs out of the tub, fetches a towel and a robe.

Dean clambers out of the tub like he's made of glass, like he might shatter at any moment. Castiel is gentle with the towel, too, patting Dean dry rather than rubbing. Castiel settles the robe around Dean's shoulders, tugging it against the back of Dean's neck before slipping his arms into the sleeves and clinching the belt tight.

Dean takes the towel, drops it over his head, and rubs his hair vigorously. When he pushes it away from his face, he looks so child-like, so open and vulnerable, that a wave of pure affection washes through Castiel. Dean's hair is soft around his head, his eyes clear, face relaxed. Castiel cannot imagine anything more beautiful. It feels like the first moment Castiel saw Dean's soul in hell, like finally finding someone he has been looking for for years.

"There you are," he breathes, as he reaches up to frame Dean's face with his hands. He pulls Dean's head down and presses a long kiss to his forehead, like a benediction. If only it were so easy. A corner of Dean's mouth quirks up. Castiel presses a light kiss there, too. "For later."

A bright smile breaks across Dean's face like the sun breaking through clouds. He lets out a breath. "Christ, I'm tired."

"I know."

Dean searches Castiel's expression for a long moment. "You really do, don't you? I guess you've gone dark side as much as I have."

Castiel remembers Leviathan, fighting them every second, fighting to hold himself together, to not be swallowed whole, every moment an eternity. "Yes. But I have always come back to myself. Just as you will."

Dean sighs. "I guess we'll see about that. C'mon. Memory foam awaits, and I wanna sleep for like a thousand years."

Castiel pulls one of Dean's arms across his own shoulders, tucks his arm around Dean's waist, moves them in the direction of Dean's bedroom. Dean makes it there mostly under his own power, though he lets Castiel steady him the whole way. He sinks gratefully onto the bed, and swings his legs up when Castiel holds the blanket up.

"Wake me up when it's like 2043." Dean says, lying back onto the pillows.

Castiel pushes his fingers through the hair at Dean's temple one last time, aware that Dean will not always be so comfortable with the contact. "I will do my best."

Dean's eyes are sliding shut again, so Castiel moves to turn out the light and leave his friend in what little peace he can find. Cold and lonely as it will be, Castiel longs for his own bed.

As soon as the lamp is off, Dean's hand somehow finds his. "Cas?" Dean's voice is small and lost.

"Yes, Dean." Castiel says, hope suddenly brimming in his chest, though hope for what, he doesn't know.

"Will you stay? It's hard to sleep, sometimes."

Castiel sends a prayer of thanks to his Father, alive or not, absent or indifferent, for Dean Winchester. "Yes, yes, of course."

Dean slides over, and Castiel climbs under the covers, tucking Dean's head into his shoulder, with one arm around Dean, and the other holding Dean's hand over his heart.

"Better?" He asks.

Dean sighs, slides closer. "Yeah, better."

Castiel finds he understands completely. When he was homeless and human, one lost soul among thousands, it was easier to sleep, to relax, with soft, human sounds nearby. Somehow the quiet rhythm of other bodies nearby calmed his own, kept the nightmares at bay.

"Sleep, Dean, everything's alright." Isn't that what everyone wants to hear?

"Yeah, that sounds good." Dean says, as though half-asleep already.

Castiel lies quietly, listens as Dean's breathing goes slow and deep, feeling Dean's heartbeat against his own chest. He means to stay awake, to memorize and cherish this time for what it is, a rare moment of peace in the tumult of human existence, but when Sam comes to rouse Dean for breakfast the next morning, he finds both of them, entangled and fast asleep.


End file.
